A Long Way Gone
by brycep40
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Natalie Watkins isn't the normal, fashion-crazed Inkling like the rest. She isn't paid to get caught up in that jargon. However, a freakish occurrence flings her head-over-heels into a struggle to get back where she belongs. Natalie will need all the help she can get to escape an unfamiliar place that's a lot closer to home than you might think.


Natalie sat in her seat on the Metro train, watching the buildings, structures, and foliage flick by outside the window. Shadows darted through the train as utility poles momentarily obstructed the sunlight streaming through. Though she wore sunglasses, her eyes twitched from the transition between light, dark, and light again, all within a tenth of a second. The train car's rattling composed most of the ambient noise, for very few people were riding this evening. Her hair bumped gently with the train's vibrations. She readjusted her hair—more specifically, her two large, orange, tentacle-like features falling from her head—and tried to position them so that their weight wouldn't make her head jerk around.

Natalie was an Inkling, just like nearly everyone else she knew. Her ability to rapidly transform into a squid and back again wasn't unusual; in fact, it's entirely commonplace. Adults, elders, others in her age bracket, and even those younger than her can do so at will with no issues. Of course, some are unable to because they aren't an Inkling—Jellies and Shrimp, for instance. But that didn't really matter. In the Turf Wars of Inkopolis, these Inklings were the ones that claimed and defended turf for their faction, mostly using weapons and gear furnished by the non-Inklings. Though Natalie was indeed heading into the heart of Inkopolis—the Central Plaza—she didn't plan on waging war against other teenage Inklings vying to get in on the next skirmish. She had more important things to take care of.

 _Inkling,_ Natalie thought to herself in disgust. _Every time I hear that word, it makes me want to… ugh. I just can't stand hearing it._

Indeed, she hated whenever someone mentioned the word "Inkling" or called her so. It felt derogatory, like her race was more of a thing or object. It made her feel like she didn't belong. Of course, it's not because she wasn't _proud_ of representing her kind. Rather, the way others said it—usually directed to her age bracket—suggested something more childish. She did agree that shooting blobs of ink out of what was basically modified water guns and squishing each other with giant paint rollers was a foolish way to spend one's time; but, marking everyone her age down as an ink-slinging buffoon felt extremely unfair.

The train gave an ungainly jolt, snapping Natalie out of her train of thought. Her sports bag on the next seat slipped and teetered over the edge, preparing to dive onto the floor, but she caught the heavy bag in time and sat it more securely on the chair again. Her equipment inside clattered about, but nobody's eyes got drawn by the noise.

The train car's occupants totaled five individuals: an old jellyfish in a plain white t-shirt, looking out the window; a young boy Inkling and his mother sitting together; a male, high school-aged Inkling carrying a bag very much like Natalie's; and Natalie herself. Natalie recognized the older male the moment she stepped onto the train, though they never spoke to each other. Marcus was his name, and he always wore some kind of head covering. It was "to hide his fugly hair," he said, usually when asked the question of why he always wore a hat. Today it was a pink saggy beanie to clash magnificently with his slick, inky, acid-green hair peeking out the back. He tended to layer his shirts as well; typically a short-sleeved shirt over a long-sleeved shirt. The blue over gray worked well, and complimented his denim jeans.

Natalie watched him fiddle with his own bag until he turned around and caught sight of her. Her aviator sunglasses concealed her gaze's direction, which was straight into his pupils. She looked for just a fraction of a second longer before turning to stare out the window once more.

Marcus was one of the Turf War professionals; most of the younger kids looked up to for inspiration. His peculiar choice of using the Slosher (which was, in essence, a bailing bucket but for ink) made him stand out so much more from the crowd. When most everyone reached for a blaster, Marcus turned to his trusty paint bucket. His skill with this weapon almost always ended in success for him and left his opponents sopping wet from his ink of choice. Others could certainly learn from him, but doing so was quite difficult when he refused to share his own tips and strategies.

The train slowed down. Both Marcus and Natalie collected and shouldered their bags, prepared to exit the train at the upcoming stop. The brakes squeaked gently as the train's speed retarded and prepared to exchange passengers on the platform. The car lurched slightly to come to a complete stop. Doors opened up and down the Metro car as the conductor's voice warbled over the public address system, "Central Plaza disembarking. Next stop; East Terrace."

Natalie stood up and exited. She walked down the platform, following Marcus's bobbing pink beanie over top the heads of the few the populated the platform. She threw her head back to get her tentacle hair out of her face, hitched up her bag more securely, and quickened her pace.

Two streets over, a cluster of buildings clearly outlined a huge circle void of structures. A large concrete wall, topped by even taller hedges, hid the nearby train tracks from view of the plaza. Marcus first entered the Central Plaza and peeled off to the side, and Natalie soon followed.

Inklings and Jellies populated the plaza, providing a hustle and bustle to energize Natalie's senses. After school finished for the day, this was the place to be for the tween, teen, and young adults. Inklings and Jellyfish of all sorts socialized and chatted, sporting their best or favorite gear to show off to the others. Graffiti art on electronic boards adorned the building walls, with the art originating from local artists showcasing their talents. Flyers advertising gear and recruitments for turf squads were posted everywhere. The well-established shops harbored window-shoppers and actual shoppers alike, eager to provide the latest kicks, clothes, hats, and choice of weaponry to the Inklings. A giant television board nearly stunted the short building it sat upon, currently flashing a mesmerizing pattern of what felt like fluorescent ink ribbons swirling in the dark. The main hub where everyone convened to get in on the next big turf battle blasted a catchy bassline out of its powerful speakers, sending shockwaves through Natalie's body.

Natalie glanced around to see where Marcus had gone. He had seated himself on the nearby curb, looking up expectantly at the television screen and occasionally checking his iSquid phone for the time. In fact, quite a few people around the plaza were doing this. Natalie checked her own phone for the time and saw that it neared six o'clock—the time that Inkopolis News would announce the new areas that would be hosting this rotation's turf wars. However, that didn't particularly interest her.

She walked across the plaza to the Northeast corner, where two buildings approached each other to form a narrow alley. She looked over her shoulder, checking that nobody would see her, then slipped into the alley.

The extremely narrow alley walls felt compressing and unwelcoming. Not even the width of two individuals walking shoulder-to-shoulder, Natalie felt like she had to shuffle sideways to pass. The Inkopolis Department of Infrastructure always kept their city clean, though, and even these dark streets were no exception. No graffiti, no dirt, no muck, no trash; everything was taken care of. Natalie liked that, because it spoke of order and method.

The claustrophobic space opened up into a tiny courtyard. The opposite side gave way to the next street, but the route was fenced off by iron railings. A fire escape with its rustic but well-polished steel adorned the brick red building behind. The courtyard was not empty, though; sitting in the corner of the railings and the building was—

"Spyke," said Natalie. "Good to see you again."

The person whom Natalie addressed was a skinny, lanky, wild-looking young adult that wouldn't have seemed out-of-place in a rock concert. His vibrantly purple-black hair spiked up at least six inches from his head, looking like a giant sea urchin. It nearly covered his _entire_ head, save a single slice for one eye plus his mouth and nose. His orange-ish, tanned skin seemed to glow a bit in the sinking sunlight. A black, poncho-like shirt with multicolored designs covered his top while tan skinny jeans and pink checkered loafers went along with. Several colored bangles strung around his wrist jingled when he moved, and he seemed to have a habit of using the tips of his fingers to mess around with them.

"Evenin', Miss Natalie" said Spyke softly, his English accent ringing clear and true when his voice didn't. Though his real name was Cedric McGuffin, those that interacted with him always called him Spyke solely because of his wild hair. Somehow, the name stuck, and Spyke grew to like the nickname himself.

He glanced at the sports bag strung over her shoulder and added, "You gone for some battlin' then, love?"

"Not yet," she said, setting her bag down and seating herself on the pavement in front of Spyke. "I dropped by to see if you managed to find what I asked from you on Wednesday. The headphones, you know?"

"'Course," he said. "Haven't failed me a customer yet, an' you won't be me first."

Spyke pulled out a large box from his rucksack behind and showed Natalie a brand new pair of studio-quality, over-the-head earphones.

"You wouldn't believe the profit margin on these fings," mumbled Spyke. "An arm an' a leg they make you pay in the shop, y'know? Load of rubbish…. But, I bought these direct, so that chopped out a lot of the cost."

Natalie looked at the headphone box a little longer before asking, "So how much do you want for them?"

Spyke turned the box in his hands as he said, "Well… I'd say a different price, but you're one of me regulars; a VIP in me own book, yeah?"

"Thanks," said Natalie brusquely, "but I asked for the price, not what you thought of me."

Spyke's eyelid narrowed, annoyed at being cut off like so.

"A grand," he said shortly. "Bargain when you think about it, mate. Kicks at Sean's shoe shop ain't much cheaper than this, and them shoes can be ten times more expensive…."

Natalie glanced down at her own hi-top canvas shoes. Thankfully, Inkline had redesigned their model to actually support the arches of the foot and avoid the feeling of walking on a waffle iron. However, she constantly pondered if the steep cost increase was worth it. Money didn't come cheap in Inkopolis.

Natalie mutely asked for the box, and Spyke placed it in her outstretched hands. She turned the brand new, pristine box in her hands, looking at all angles. In all honesty, one grand wasn't a bad price at all. Considering they usually went for three thousand Sliks or more, two-thirds off of the normal sale price really did seem like a steal.

Natalie unzipped her bag and rummaged about inside. She pulled out a small wristlet and opened that up to peek inside at her cash stack. Because payday was the week prior, a fat wad of notes took up most of the little bag's space. She quickly counted it up and totaled three-and-a-half thousand Sliks, each bill in a denomination of one hundred. These headphones were something Natalie had been eyeing up for at least three months, and now that Spyke managed to get them on such a discount, she was willing to drop some of her hard-earned cash on it.

Natalie peeled off ten of these notes and held them towards Spyke to take. He accepted the notes, tucking them away in his rucksack.

"Been a pleasure, Miss Natalie," said Spyke. "Anyfing else I can do for ya, love?"

"Yes," she said, depositing her new headphones into the sports bag and withdrawing a pair of almost new cyan trainers. "Think you can get these sold for me? I don't really care when or how."

Spyke took the spotless pair of shoes.

"Quality goods, this is," he mumbled, examining them closely. "I guarantee ya that this'll go for at least six 'undred. I wager I can fetch eight wif enough time."

"What's your cut?" Natalie asked.

Spyke thought for a moment.

"Twenty percent," he said. "That fair?"

"Fair enough to me," said Natalie. "Call me when you find a deal?"

"No problem," said Spyke with a nod of his head. "Won't take too long wif everyone in 'n out of 'ere. I'll find y' a buyer here soon enough, mate. Everyone's lookin' to be the best 'round here, y'know."

"Oh yes," said Natalie with a sigh. She stood up with bag in hand and added, " _Everyone_ wants to be the coolest."

Spyke understood the goodbye gesture and acknowledged it.

"See ya around, Miss Natalie," he said with a raise of his hand. "Thanks for dropping by, an' stay fresh out there."

Natalie's cheek convulsed involuntarily when Spyke said the word "fresh." Another one of her pet peeves…. Why was it that everyone only cared about being "fresh"? Couldn't they all get along with their awesome gear without having to try and rub it in each others' faces?

Natalie turned around sourly and left the courtyard, scooting through the alley again to re-emerge into the Central Plaza. Glancing around, she noticed Marcus still sitting on the far curb, now looking expectantly up at the huge television board atop the building to Natalie's right. He wasn't alone, though; most of the Plaza's occupants had their eyes glued to the screen. Heaving a disgruntled sigh, she leaned against the nearby wall and joined as a spectator for the time being.

Somewhere, a church tower tolled six o'clock. The booming bells chimed their song throughout the city. Now, everyone within the Plaza turned to look at the television board. The moment the bells ceased to echo, the board's graphic changed to feature the start of the short news program. A new graphic and background commandeered the screen, showing off bright violet and green colors with the title of the program, called "Inkopolis News."

The screen cut to two female Inklings in their very late teens. They stood on either side of the camera shot, each wearing their signature and equally ridiculous hats. One looked like a brush to scrub floors and the other the soap to complement. The girl on the left wore a smooth, black and purple dress fit to her form while the one on the right wore something similar, just in black and neon green instead.

"Hello to all of Inkopolis!" said the girl on the left enthusiastically. "Callie here!"

"Marie, as well," followed up the girl that could have easily passed as her sister.

"Hold on to you tentacles," Callie started.

"It's Inkopolis news time at six o'clock this Friday evening," added Marie. Her face seemed a little deadpan, like she wasn't entirely into the program.

"That's right!" said Callie. "Like always, a new rotation is in place for all you Inklings looking to splat it up!"

"You bet," said Marie. "Here's a look at where this evening's Turf Wars are happening…."

At this point, Natalie's attention slipped to temporarily unrecoverable levels. She began to idly toy with her phone, totally disinterested in what captivated everyone else in the plaza. People were whispering to each other, excited to hear the areas hosting skirmishes until the next rotation at ten o'clock. It was all merely background noise to her.

"...and remember," filtered in Callie's voice, bringing Natalie back to reality. Both Callie and Marie pointed (the former with more enthusiasm) at the camera, implicating the illusion that they were addressing the viewer directly, and simultaneously said, "Stay fresh!"

Natalie wished she could have spaced out for just five more seconds, simply so that she wouldn't have had to hear them say that last sentence.

"Good riddance," she mumbled under her breath, watching the Inklings leave in droves. They headed towards the main battle hub—a huge space at the far end of the Plaza build specifically for holding crowds of people and shuttling them to where they needed to go. She even saw Marcus bringing up the rear with his hot pink beanie sticking out like a sore thumb. He waltzed along with no particular sense of urgency. He wouldn't have any trouble joining a matchup between factions—with any team, he'd be leading it.

Natalie sighed. In a mere five minutes, the Plaza had nearly emptied. Now, it composed of either straggling Inklings or Jellies leaving to reconvene in their own friend groups. The Plaza always filled and emptied like this when new host areas got announced (save the early morning rotations). This area would be practically empty like this for at least another two hours—long enough for nobody to notice that Natalie had disappeared.

She shuffled over to another corner of the plaza void of all activity. Several mailboxes, trash bins, a newspaper dispenser, and a bench occupied this corner. A steam vent and storm water drain behind the bench relieved the appearance of solid concrete. Natalie walked up to these vents and bent down, as if examining them. She looked around her shoulder, checking for any snoopers trying to find out what she was up to, then gave the grate covering the steam vent three good, hard knocks.

A hand from under the iron grate pushed it up, revealing that it wasn't a steam vent at all. An old man cloaked in shadow had climbed the steel rungs attached to the wall of the shaft and lifted the grate upon hearing Natalie's knock. All she could see was a faint white glow from the man's eyes.

"Good to see you again, lass," he said in a rough, weathered voice.

The old man held out his hand, palm up. Natalie handed off her sports bag, placing the shoulder straps in his upturned hand. After he took hold, the bag got lowered so that Natalie could not see anything inside the shaft. All she heard was a whoosh and faint, wet bubbling of a thick liquid. Natalie took the cue and, with impressive agility, jumped into the shaft while shutting the iron grate in one fell swoop.

Several miles outside of Inkopolis, a ragged, board-and-nail roadside shack occupied little space in a vast field. It stood away from the roadside, attracting little attention to the few that passed. A small, kettle-shaped object half-buried in the ground sat with a low profile, much like the shack next to it. The top seemed to have been cut off and modified, replaced by a fine, mesh-like grate over top.

The kettle began to whistle. Its sound pierced the air while steam suddenly billowed out of the protruding spout. It grew louder and louder until a squid—a real, live, blue squid—rocketed through the mesh grate. It flew several feet into the air, morphing from the arrow-headed and white-eyed squid into an aged and rusty Inkling. The old Inkling landed flawlessly in the grass, dressed in an antique but impeccably spotless sailor's outfit. He waited not even five seconds before the kettle belched out another squid—orange this time—and landed beside him, now a female Inkling of about sixteen years old.

"Well, Natalie," said the old Inkling, "I see that you've kept to me timetable. I appreciate that."

"Certainly, Captain," said Natalie, taking the bag from the old man's hands and unpacking it on the ground. "I mean no disrespect at any time. Cuttlefish is too good of a name to soil."

The man's lips twitched into a smile upon hearing his name revered like so.

"Aye," Captain Cuttlefish returned, "and I return me respect for Miss Watkins; the best fighter I ever did see with me own two eyes."

Natalie nodded her head in respect as she removed objects from the bag. Some things that came out were: a tough, black vest to wear on top of her shirt; camouflage cargo pants; boots; a Tentatek Splattershot Pro; a cylindrical tank of ink to be strapped to her back; and a headset used for radio communications. She threw on all of these clothes, removing only her shoes. In a mere three minutes, she transformed from a low-key, ordinary Inkling into a soldier ready to dish out some ink from the high-tech Splattershot in her hands. The gold aviators flashed in the dying sun and continued to block her eyes, masking anything they might reveal.

The captain had been fiddling with a radio module hidden in the wooden shack, keying it to the frequency he would use to communicate. He confirmed that the setup worked.

"Fantastic, Agent Three," he rumbled, now adjusting the stubby radio antenna on Natalie's vest. "We'll be able to hear ye loud and clear."

"Have the others contacted you recently?" asked Natalie.

Cuttlefish paused.

"Not yet," he said slowly. "They're a few minutes late, in fact. They should have showed up by now…."

Right on cue, the kettle began blasting out steam again. In next to no time, two squids—one red and one cyan—were expelled through the grate. Natalie watched unfazed as they tumbled through the air, morphing into their Inkling selves, and landed on their feet, right in front of her and Captain Cuttlefish. They carried their own bags, just like Natalie's.

"Thanks for being on time," she said sarcastically.

The Inkling with his cyan hair tied in a ponytail looked shocked and affronted. He put a hand to his chest, clearly taken aback by the sudden rudeness. A little color rose in his pale skin as he said, "We were three minutes behind! Cut us a little slack, won't ya?"

The red-haired Inkling, wearing a hideously colored yellow-and-gold camouflage safari hat, jumped in and added, "Seriously, Natalie, can you tone back the harshness for once? We're all Inklings here, right?"

Natalie glowered at them, but wasn't stupid enough to say her mind right in front of their Captain.

"It's not me you have to apologize to," she said scathingly. "It's the Captain. You're putting us all behind schedule."

Captain Cuttlefish stood up straighter and directed his attention to the recent arrivals.

"Agents," he said with just a touch of sternness in his voice, "we all know that bein' on time is key for our group. Three minutes, though, is not something to stew in guilt ov'r. All I ask from you two, from here on out, is yer punctuality. Understand?"

"Yes, Captain," the Inklings said quickly, bowing.

"Thank ye," said Cuttlefish. "Meet us back here in five minutes so we can debrief. Aye?"

"Aye aye, Captain," they said in unison, providing a sailor's salute to the old Inkling. They took their bags and themselves around the back of the shack to change into their gear.

Once they disappeared, Cuttlefish spoke up and said, "Natalie, there was no reason to be so harsh on them lads."

She turned around, eyes wide with surprise and brows raised.

"What do you—they're making us late!" she burst out. "Why do you only let them get off with a _warning?"_

"They're still on our team," said Cuttlefish sourly. "I don't expect two fourteen-year-old swashbucklers to be punctual every second of the day. Errors happen, and I ain't punishin' them for a first-time offense. Kole and Edd are good lads, y'see? They have them priorities straight. If it continues to happen, then discipline will fall under me own watch. Please don't make it your duty to punish them."

"Well, _somebody_ has to tell them the rules around here," she snarled without thinking at all. In an instant, she gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, but the damage was done.

"I—I mean—" she stuttered.

Cuttlefish raised a wrinkled hand to stop Natalie short of an apology.

"Please, Miss Watkins," he muttered. Tingles of fear raced through Natalie's body; the Captain usually only used her last name when he was one hundred percent serious. "I've seen with me own eyes that it's a habit to speak yer mind, but it ain't an excuse to insult anyone… 'specially yer peers and friends. I've no hand in ye social life, but I do suggest a wee bit more empathy 'round others."

Natalie hung her head.

"Yes, Cap'n," she mumbled ashamedly.

A few moments passed until Kole and Edd re-emerged from view, fully clothed in battle armor like Natalie. Edd's dark, carbon fiber helmet continued to cover up his red hair while Kole wore a headset similar to Natalie's. Both wore shorts, though Edd donned a heavy-duty jacket and Kole sported a vibrantly yellow safety vest over top a black, long-sleeved shirt. The former held a large .52 Gal splatter, capable of dishing out a large volume of ink, while the latter used a light-and-dark gray N-ZAP pistol—'85 model.

"I'm telling you," said Kole, flashing the N-ZAP in front of Edd, "the '85 model is better than the '89 version! It shoots faster, farther, and looks a whole lot cooler.…"

"Baloney!" exclaimed Edd. "All they changed was the color! They didn't even _touch_ the inside. I guarantee you there's no difference between that gun in your hands and the one in Shellendorf's store."

"We'll see," said Kole skeptically. "When we're done, I'm testing it and proving you wrong—"

"And when _you're_ done with the jibber-jabber," Natalie cut in, silencing Kole, "we're ready to move on."

Kole threw her a dirty look. Natalie smirked in response.

"That's plenty for now, agents," said Cuttlefish. "Let's focus here…."

They turned their attention to the Captain with backs straight, chins up, and weapons held across their torso in rest position. Kole and Edd had a habit of fidgeting, glancing around, scratching an itch, or moving in some other fashion. Natalie, however, budged not a micron. She didn't let anything faze her at all.

"So, if you lads listened to the news lately, ye may have picked up some odd reports about the North Docks," said Captain Cuttlefish. He paced back and forth in front of his agents, maintaining a mixed air of professionalism and grandfatherly affection. "The ground supporting them piers and docks is weakening and causing undesired settling of the structures. Most people think it's the seawater infiltrating the clay sublayer and degrading the bedrock. However, I've taken a closer look meself and saw that the problem lies farther underneath the surface."

Natalie's ears pricked up. Most people (herself included) thought that the natural forces Cuttlefish mentioned were working to degrade the North Docks. Apparently, this wasn't the case.

"Octolings," Cuttlefish said simply. "Those darned caves are gonna make the entire north end of the city collapse on itself. They think just the docks are in trouble, but it's a lot worse than that. We need to stop 'em from digging out any more than they already have."

"How big is this cave we're talking about?" Edd piped up.

"Massive," said Cuttlefish gravely. "Must be at least two thousand feet in any direction. Them Octolings keep digging out the walls, so the caves just gets bigger with passin' time."

"How can we fix this?" asked Kole.

"Easy," started Cuttlefish. "Drive 'em out of that cave so the city's Department of Infrastructure can fix the sinking ground. All them engineers have to do is prop up the cave with columns and pillars to stop anything terrible from happenin'. Make sense?"

Kole and Edd nodded, but Natalie asked, "Won't the Octolings want to try and come back? I mean, it won't keep them out forever…."

"Another simple solution," Cuttlefish rattled off. "The entrance they use via their kettle network will be sealed off so that they can't return. It may take a lot of ink, but we'll keep 'em locked out for good when the job's done and dusted."

The Captain looked around at the teenagers under his command and said, "That's the debrief. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads.

"Lovely," said Cuttlefish. "We're ready to begin."

He sidled over to the shack and briefly dug around inside. He withdrew his signature but nonetheless bizarre weapon; an old-fashioned, single-shot marksman pistol that wouldn't look out-of-place in a duel. Only the Captain's skill allowed the pistol to exercise its enormous potential. He spun it in his hand like a gunslinger and holstered it.

"Follow me, lads," Cuttlefish added, pointing to the kettle embedded in the ground.

Before he jumped in again, he grabbed hold of the kettle with both hands and turned with all his might. Slowly, the entire exposed portion of the kettle rotated with a drawn-out _squeak_. Cuttlefish shuffled alongside, turning and turning until he rotated it one hundred eighty degrees around. A massive, metallic _clunk_ echoed from deep within the kettle.

"Isn't it dangerous to leave the kettle unattended like this?" interjected Natalie, eyeing up the subject in question with concern. "Won't Octolings be able to get through, since we opened up a connection to _their_ network?"

Cuttlefish straightened up and shook his head.

"We won't be long," he refuted. "They won't know we've opened up this path until it's too late for 'em. By then, I'll seal it back up."

Natalie nodded, glad to get her questions answered and doubts quelled.

"All right, ye scallawags!" exclaimed Cuttlefish. "Follow me closely, and don't get lost!"

He jumped, slipping through the kettle's mesh-like grate as a squid with ease. Kole and Edd copied him, diving down with a _whoosh._ Natalie brought up the rear and sprung downwards into the Octolings' cool, dark tunnel network.

They whizzed along the walls of a pipe, welded and riveted together by curved steel plates. Their path wasn't much more than three or four feet in diameter, yet still provided enough space for easy travel. They left behind a rainbow of an ink trail that disappeared just a few seconds after their squid selves laid it; blue, cyan, red, and orange streaked the pipe for a short time before the surface returned back to its normal color of chilled steel.

Soon, the pipe shot out into a much larger channel. This metallic channel held entering and exiting pipes on all sides like a superhighway for plumbing. Countless small lights cast a dim, yellow glow everywhere, becoming brighter and darker and brighter again as their group passed. They followed this giant pipe for another half-minute or so until it exited into an even _larger_ pipe. The new pipe was so spacious that Natalie couldn't make out the top.

 _That's a lot of paths…_ Natalie thought to herself. _Where do they all go?_

Suddenly, a deep, bassy, whale-like groan echoed throughout this colossal highway of pipes. The surface the group traveled on shuddered violently. They all stopped dead in their tracks, retaining their squid form in case they needed to make a quick exit.

"Who's there?" called out Cuttlefish, his voice gurgling.

Nothing answered immediately. The pipe trembled again, causing the lights to flicker ominously.

" _Cuttlefisssshhh…"_ moaned this deep voice from the depths of the pipe network. " _Stay awayyy… or else…."_

The group remained fixed to their spots, completely unsure of where to turn. They didn't know from where this voice originated, and didn't want to find out.

"What's going on?" garbled Edd.

"Unforeseen circumstances," grumbled Cuttlefish. "We're gonna power through as fast as possible, lads. Ye don't wanna see…."

He trailed off, making Natalie's heart pump faster.

"Wait for me signal—" Cuttlefish started, but the most powerful rumble yet cut off his sentence.

" _WATKINS!"_ the monstrous voice bellowed.

" _Me?"_ Natalie cried out, terrified at hearing her surname. "What did _I_ do?"

"We gotta go!" shouted Cuttlefish. "Move, now!"

The cavernous pipes trembled incessantly, like they had been caught in the middle of an earthquake. The group darted forward with impeccable speed, but their course proved extremely difficult to maintain. Natalie did her best to follow Cuttlefish—who knew the destination—and Kole and Edd, both of whom exhibited slightly more agile tentaclework in this pressure situation. She lost ground the longer they went on.

" _Wait!"_ she called out desperately. "Slow down!"

"You need to speed up!" returned Kole, who was nearest. "We can't slow down!"

Loss of pace, however, was exactly what Natalie suffered. Of course, in such a predicament, this was most certainly not by her own choosing. A mysterious force, like something trying to change the direction of gravity, quickly impeded Natalie's forward momentum.

"What the—?"

Nobody touched her... nothing physically roped her in…. An invisible something took hold, weighing Natalie down and rapidly reversing her course of direction.

"HELP!"

Kole, the only one to hear, turned around and gasped as Natalie's vividly orange squid body got lifted into the air, flying backwards towards the darkness.

" _Natalie!"_

The others turned around and mirrored Kole's gasp. All three swam as fast as possible, but the force's tight grip on Natalie outpaced them. She struggled and flailed about in midair, but it did her no good. She flew towards the ceiling, which, she glimpsed, had a new, dimly blue, swirling portal blocking one of the pipes.

" _You will pay…"_ growled the bodiless voice. " _Say goodbye… to your friends…."_

"NOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed.

The portal crackled and sparked, now glowing a blinding white. Captain Cuttlefish, Kole, and Edd could do nothing to help as they watched Natalie get swallowed whole by this gateway. The portal itself flashed with the sun's intensity and exploded like a blown lightbulb, showering sparks everywhere.

"NATALIE!" Cuttlefish shouted hoarsely, but it was no good. The portal had died out devouring its prey, and they could see nothing in the ceiling lost to the darkness. That portal, whatever it was, just stole a member of their group. Nobody could move out of pure shock.

Natalie was, without a doubt, a long way gone.


End file.
